


a place uncharted and overgrown

by goldtreesilvertree, mothwrites



Series: something enchanting, something deadly (wolf 359 fantasy au) [4]
Category: Wolf 359 (Radio)
Genre: Also talking about our feelings and yelling at Kepler, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Family Fluff, Multi, The SESD SEQUEL nobody asked for, rebuilding relationships, recovering from trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-12
Updated: 2017-09-12
Packaged: 2018-12-26 23:29:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12069156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goldtreesilvertree/pseuds/goldtreesilvertree, https://archiveofourown.org/users/mothwrites/pseuds/mothwrites
Summary: There was a war, and they won. The queens regained their throne. The prince was freed from his prison. The villain was safely locked away.But therewasa war, and it changed everything. And the war ending doesn't exorcise the ghosts, or end the nightmares, or chase away the shadows.You have to do that for yourself.





	a place uncharted and overgrown

**Author's Note:**

> You thought that this was over? Oh, how wrong you were... Title is from "Careful" by Paramore. This is set immediately after the end of Something Enchanting, Something Deadly, and Our Antebellum Innocence, and will only make sense if you've read the first, though the second isn't required (it's just cute, so you should read it anyway).

Isabel didn’t expect her wife to be awake when she crept into bed just before dawn. She’d hoped Renée would sleep through her late-night or early-morning rides and never notice she’d gone. But of course she’d noticed, and the look of concern in her grey eyes was everything she’d wanted to avoid.

“You were gone a long time,” she said, softly. “You’re freezing.”

There was no accusation in her voice. There didn’t need to be. There were so many things that Isabel hadn’t told her, that she didn’t want to explain, because talking about them would ruin the happy ending they’d both earned. Happy endings have no space for ghosts, and Isabel had found the palace was full of them.

“So warm me up,” Isabel said, voice distractingly low and lovely. She pressed her cold nose to Renée’s arm, making her jump.

“Weaponised coldness is _not_ a kind way to wake your queen,” her wife teased, but wrapped an arm around her waist anyway. The concern hadn’t faded, though. “Where did you go? You don’t have to tell me, but I want to know you’re -” _Alive? Happy?_ “Safe,” she finally decided. “So I don’t worry about you.”

“Nowhere in particular,” Isabel murmured, basking in the body heat Renée gave off. “Just couldn’t sleep. Didn’t want to wake you up.”

“I wouldn’t have minded.” Sleep - true, peaceful sleep - was a rarity for both of them, even now the war was over. Renée had lost count of the number of times she’d woken from nightmares of the gallows, the burning, the crash of falling stone. It was why she was awake now, but Isabel didn’t need to know that. “You’re my wife,” she said, instead, pressing her nose against Isabel’s cold one. “You’re my favourite person to wake up to.”

“Mmm, me too,” Isabel said, smiling sweetly, a face few ever saw but her wife. “But we don’t have to wake up just yet. Go back to sleep, princess.” _Don’t ask me any more._

“I’ll sleep in a little while,” Renée lied. _I’m not dreaming about dying when I could be looking at you._ Happy endings left no room for nightmares. “I’m thinking about repainting this room, though. Making it both of ours rather than the same as it’s been since I moved up to the tower. More like home for you.”

“As you like,” Isabel replied diffidently. _I don’t need any more reminders of what this palace used to be._ “You’re good at things like that.”

Renée raised her eyebrows, “As if you have no aesthetic preferences,” she teased, but then her tone became more serious. “Tell me what’s wrong? Sometimes… it’s like you’re here, but you’re not looking at the same place I am.” _Let me help you._ Helping someone else was far easier than thinking about what she saw when her eyes were closed. Especially someone as dear to her as Isabel.

“You worry too much,” Isabel yawned. “Nothing’s wrong. I’m just tired. I’ve been riding all night, and - hey, I saw Eiffel at his window when I rode back in. I guess he’s not sleeping well either.”

Minkowski sighed, a familiar crease forming between her brows. “Him too?” _I thought I’d saved him that, at least._ She snuggled closer to Isabel, holding her a little more tightly. “This was supposed to end when the war did. We’re all safe, right? It’s over.”

“That flame in his window’s still going,” Isabel said, glad for the change of topic. “I think that’s what he’s waiting for.”

“The fire sorcerer. Of course.” Renée closed her eyes. “Do you think I did the right thing, exiling him?” He’d been a traitor to the crown, the law had demanded his death, but…

“Yes,” Isabel said immediately, almost derisively. “You were _beyond_ merciful.”

“I know you’re right. He’s just… a loose end. I don’t know what happened between him and Eiffel, and I don’t know if I _want_ to know, but I do want to know I made the right choice for everyone.” She picked at the embroidered threads of the blanket, the crease between her brows deepening. “I was supposed to keep my cousin safe. And _he_ did that instead.” _And now I might never get him back._

“Eiffel will find another pretty boy to turn his head and forget all about this, I swear,” Isabel sighed. “It’s not _your_ fault. He’ll figure out that you’re acting in his best interests eventually.”

“I hope so.” She closed her eyes, shifting to allow Isabel more room without letting go of her. “You’re right, I’m worrying too much. Get some sleep. We have a kingdom to rule in the morning.” There was a smile in her voice, but Isabel could feel her sigh again against her side when they’d both settled into their usual sleeping positions.

Isabel cursed silently, her distraction gambit having made her wife even more concerned. “I was at the memorial grove,” she said eventually. “I go there to think. Nothing like sitting by your own gravestone to inspire reflection, right?”

Renée pressed a kiss to her shoulder. “Does it… help?” she asked, quietly. In that black night before the siege broke, she’d wanted to bury Isabel in the citadel she’d retaken. She hadn’t thought of the grave she’d never inhabited, in the grove where her knights were buried after Camlann. “I didn’t think you’d want to see that.” _I didn’t want to think about burying you again._

“It does help,” Isabel said honestly. “I like visiting them. Telling them about my day. About you,” she added, nudging her affectionately.

“You tell them about me?” Renée’s smile was genuine now. “I’m… glad of that. I wish I could have known them.”

_They’re everywhere in this palace, darling._ Sometimes, she could forget that they’d ever left, until she turned a corner and the building changed from what she remembered to what it was now. And then the loss returned. It always returned. “They’d love you,” she said. “Maybe we _should_ repaint this room,” she added suddenly.

“That’s a change of tune.” Renée sounded almost confused. “Did you have anything in mind?”

“What would _you_ like? Yellow, maybe? Pink?”

“Green or blue?” she suggested in return. Quiet colours. A long way from fire and ash.

“Not green,” Isabel said immediately. She’d slept among enough green for a lifetime. “Blue would be nice.”

“Blue then,” she agreed, decidedly. “It’ll be peaceful, right?” _We both need some peace._ Though she was beginning to wonder if they were made for it.

“Peaceful,” Isabel agreed. “And you look good in blue, princess.”

“You look good in _everything._ ” She kissed her, gently and lazily. She hoped it didn’t seem like she was seeking reassurance for something she couldn’t quite voice. _This is good. This is peaceful. This is our happily ever after._

But there was no room for ghosts or nightmares in a happy ending, and sometimes she felt like one of them.

*

Isabel walked into the stables with her horse, tired after a morning of training newly recruited knights. She flung off her breastplate and sat down on a haystack, bones weary, and groaned. She didn’t see Eiffel grooming a horse nearby.

“Long morning, your majesty?” he asked. She jumped at the sound of his voice from the neighbouring stall.

“An eternity,” she called back, and got up to see him. “They’re so _green._ That’s a fine horse,” she acknowledged, clicking in approval at the large black mare.

“She’s beautiful, but not mine,” he agreed. “I’m taking care of her for - someone,” he cut himself off hastily.

“Good of you,” she said, a little bemused. “What, not enough princely duties taking up your time? Felt like taking the groomsmen’s too?”

He grinned, but his cheeks flushed a little. “Isn’t it usually a knight’s duty to care for their horses themselves? I can’t do most chivalric duties, but looking after Urania here I _can_ do.”

“Fair enough.” She stroked the horse’s smooth black muzzle, and then realised she’d run out of conversation. Aside from their night in the cells, she could count the times she’d been alone with Eiffel on one hand. “So… How are you?”

He shrugged. “Trying to keep busy. Minkowski’s put me in charge of palace communications, so that’s one less thing for her to worry about…” He looked thoughtful. “She is… doing alright, isn’t she?” They all lived in the same building, it shouldn’t even need to be asked, but… it felt strange, being back together after the months of war. Like they didn’t fit any more.

Isabel shrugged. “Uh, as well as can be expected? She’s tough. She’ll be fine.”

“Of course.” It was hard to remember sometimes that Minkowski was a hero now, more like Lovelace than himself. No wonder they didn’t fit as they had before. “And you?”

“Me?”

_I watched you die._ He could still remember the moment that trapdoor dropped, and now she strode around the palace as if she owned it. Which she technically did.

“It was a long war for all of us,” he said, finally, “and you went straight from Camlann to that. Not easy for anyone, right?”

“Not… easy, no. But I’m sure you don’t want to hear about that,” Isabel added quickly.

He didn’t look at her, focussing on continuing to brush down the horse as he spoke: “I don’t mind. It’s not like I have anything else to do until this lady’s brushed down. Besides,” he added, “aren’t we technically family now?” _I hope so, I don’t have much family left._

“Of course. I’m… You don’t mind, do you?”

“ _Mind?_ ” Now he did look up at her.

She wavered, uncharacteristically. “You two are very protective of each other. I’m sorry that you couldn’t be at the wedding, or have room to voice any objections, but…”

Eiffel snorted. “I would have _killed_ to see your wedding, but I don’t _mind._ You make my cousin happy.” _You_ died _to make her happy._ “That’s all that matters. All that _should_ matter,” he finished, firmly.

“Good,” Lovelace said decisively. “Good. Hey, Eiffel, I…” she trailed off.

“What?”

“I saw a light in your window last night,” she said, as casually as she could manage. “While I was also… not-sleeping.”

“Oh. That.” He looked embarrassed. “Well, the palace is… different now. And sometimes I can’t sleep any more. Not exactly newsworthy, right?” He sounded like he was trying to convince himself as well as her.

“No, I understand that,” she said. “But it wasn’t a candle.”

“How could you tell from the stables?”

“It was in the cells with us. I won’t forget _anything_ about that night in a hurry.”

He rubbed the back of his neck with one hand. “...He put it in my rooms before he left,” he admitted, looking guilty. “You won’t tell my cousin, right? She’s seen enough everlasting fire for a lifetime.”

“I won’t,” she said, though she wasn’t sure if she meant it, “but, Eiffel - look, this isn’t healthy. Is it?”

He leant against Urania, who snorted at him. “I’m fine, Lovelace. We’re all _fine._ Nothing unhealthy in a little late-night reading or an early morning ride, right?” _Or in my cousin looking more and more tired every day._

She folded her arms. “He’s not coming back, Eiffel. If I were you I’d put that flame in an enchanted chest or something and try to forget about it.”

His head snapped up, “Who said this was anything to do with _him?_ ” _And who died and gave you the right to lecture me?_

“Why would you be mooning over it if it wasn’t? Look, I just think Renée has enough to worry about without _this_ as well-”

“Don’t try and pin her _worrying_ on me. I’ve been keeping this to myself and away from her. What have _you_ been doing to make sure she’s okay? Have you even noticed how _tired_ she looks?”

“Of course I have, we sleep in the same _bed,_ ” Isabel shot back. “You _isolating_ yourself from her to dream about the man who murdered her father isn’t helping as much as you think it is.”

He reeled as if she’d slapped him, and his eyes narrowed. “Because your midnight rides are doing _so_ much to help her?”

“She knows about those,” Isabel replied immediately. “She sleeps just about as much as I do.”

“And you think she doesn’t worry about you at all, when half the time you’re flinching at shadows as though they’re ghosts?” He folded his arms, dropping the comb with a thud. “Maybe you should look at your own _healthy_ way of dealing things before criticising mine.”

“I’m trying to _help_ you,” she argued. “You know he can’t ever come back here and I don’t want you to get lost over this, is that so bad of me?”

“Well, maybe I don’t need your _help,_ cousin. Minkowski and I dealt with our problems fine before you ever came along!” _We had our entire lives before you appeared._

She rolled her eyes at him. “Fine. Keep breaking your own damn heart.”

“I’m not-”

“Yes,” she said, almost patiently, “you _are._ I know a little something about wishing people could come back. We _both_ need to stop.”

He looked uncomfortable now, and a little guilty. “Maybe we do. But I’m _not_ a traitor,” he said, insistently. “It wasn’t treason. It was a lot of things, but it wasn’t _that._ I would never have picked him over her.”

“I never said you were a traitor,” she said. “Of course it’s not treason. But it is impossible. The healthy thing would be to move on. You haven’t heard from him, have you?”

He shook his head. “As far as I know, he’s gone into exile just like you both wanted.” He cracked half a smile at her. “But who are you to speak of impossible things, Miss Once-And-Future-Queen?” _You came back. Twice. It’s not impossible to hope for the same from him._

“Point taken,” she demurred, smiling a little back. “Enough lecturing. Friends?”

“Friends,” he agreed. _We both need all the friends we can get. And we both want to look after her._

*

Minkowski’s head was aching from the morning’s _endless_ council meetings, and the most unpleasant part of her day wasn’t over yet. No, _someone_ had to check on their… guest, and today, she felt it should be her.

The cells had been cleaned and made a little more comfortable since the siege had ended, but their inmate still looked disgusted at his surroundings.

“Colonel,” she greeted him, loudly.

He looked up, and a perfect, performative smile spread across his face. “Princess.”

“ _Your majesty,_ ” she corrected him. “I’m sure you heard all the noise about the coronation even down here.”

“Did I miss your coronation? Pity.”

She folded her arms. “I’m sure you’re just _distraught_ about it. Particularly given you had your own plans for my reign, I’m sure.” _You wanted me to be your puppet queen, after all._

“Are you here to gloat, princess? I thought you hero types liked to take the moral high ground,” he said.

“I actually came to check on your well-being, given my cousin’s… indisposition when he was in these cells. Though I wonder if I should be more concerned about your memory, given that you’ve forgotten my title _twice_ now.” She was starting to get irritated, and she _hated_ to give him the satisfaction of getting under her skin.

“Oh, I do apologise,” he replied, his smile becoming cat-like. “Queen consort?”

“Queen _regnant._ ” The word curled off her tongue as sweet as honey. She was the first of her line to hold the title, and the thought of sharing that with Isabel… “Co-monarchies are a beautiful thing.”

“I’m sure. So, now that you’ve established that I’m still alive…” he paused, expectantly.

“I thought I would let you know that the Empire is sending you… let’s call it an honour guard to bring you home. You’ve upset a _lot_ of people back there.” _Which is the only reason I’m not letting you hang as you did my wife._

He dipped his head. “As I knew they would. And Jacobi?” He tried to sound disinterested, cold, but it had been eating away at him that they were placed in separate cells.

The young queen’s eyes gleamed with something that wasn’t quite malice. “You didn’t know? Your sorcerer protected my cousin during the Battle of the Citadel. In recognition of my family’s debt to him, his sentence was commuted to exile. Your bird was flown a long time ago.”

“He’s already gone,” Kepler stated. “I see. Very… merciful of you.”

She gave him a glowing smile, “How could I refuse mercy to someone who was clearly so dear to my cousin?” It felt a little wrong to use Eiffel’s… relationship with the sorcerer in this way, but she’d been merciful and reasonable and sensible for _months._ She could be a little cruel in this moment, to this man.

A bitter taste rose up in the back of his throat at the mention of Jacobi’s betrayal. “Yet you separated them. Interesting.”

“We came to an agreement. His affection for my cousin was strong enough that he was willing to forgo vengeance for Lady Alana’s death, and _my_ debt to him was great enough that a little mercy was the least I could do. Interesting, the things love will make us do, isn’t it?” Her smile gleamed bitter and bright in the torchlight.

He couldn’t quite believe that Jacobi would refrain from burning his sister’s killer alive for the memory of the affection of a boy. But Jacobi had proved him wrong many times as of late. And now he was gone. “Interesting indeed. Forgoing vengeance isn’t usually his style.” _I taught him better than that._

“Maybe you underestimated him. I saw what happened on the walls that day as clearly as you did. My cousin’s actions were… remarkable.” Truthfully, she didn’t recall them at all, but the crowd had seen it, and rumour had a way of reaching royal ears more quickly than anyone suspected. “He saved me then. Is it so hard to believe he could do the same again?”

“I suppose not, seeing as you’re currently not aflame. What’s the point of this, _your majesty?_ Do you think I’m that sore about losing a servant that you’ll get under my skin this way?”

She looked at him, pityingly, “Oh, colonel _._ I already have.” With a final smile in his direction, she turned, and strode from the cells. She couldn’t bring back the people he’d killed. She couldn’t undo the harm his reign of terror had caused. But for now, at least, she had him under lock and key, and there was something freeing in that.

He watched her stalk away, resisting the urge to yell after her. She was a _child,_ a little girl who’d been handed her crown first by her parents and then by her wife, and yet she’d _won._ How could she stand there and taunt him about losing the loyalty he’d _earned_ to her brat of a cousin when any loyalty she received had been handed to her at birth? He’d been one of the Empire’s best men, and he’d lost to a girl who’d earned nothing, a prince who cared more for romances and plays than for politics or vengeance, and a woman who’d been dead for three hundred years. Fortune’s wheel had turned in his favour, as it always had, until suddenly he was _falling_ and he’d landed here. At the mercy of a child. There was something confining in that.

*

The visit to the cells had been reassuring in some ways, but it stirred new anxieties in her heart. Kepler was _evil_ , he deserved all he was receiving now and more, and yet… the girl she’d once been would never have stooped to gloating at a prisoner. Would never have left a man to suffer and felt pride instead of bitter guilt. But there was only one person in the castle who knew the old Renée Minkowski well enough to draw her out of whatever she was now. Someone she’d been avoiding for far too long. Which was how Eiffel found her outside his door with a tray of tea that evening.

“Can we start again?” Her eyes were wide and sincere and so, _so_ tired that he stepped aside almost without thinking about it.

“Of course,” he said quietly, feeling guilt crash over him like it had done the day she’d come to take him from the city prison. “Of course, come in.”

She set the tray down on the table and sat down on the armchair. “I’m sorry, I know I haven’t been around-” she broke off, looking at the table, “You… have a letter.” She blinked at it, and her cheeks flushed as she caught the last line. “You know, if you’re busy, I can go-”

“No,” he said quickly. “Don’t. I’ve read it a thousand times.” He wished he’d had the presence of mind to hide it, to do something about the fire on his windowsill, but there hadn’t been time.

“Oh.” Her voice was small and sad, the least queenly she’d sounded since she returned to the palace. “Do you… want to talk about it?” _Talk about your lover to the woman who exiled him? Of course he doesn’t,_ she cursed silently.

“Oh, Minkowski,” he almost laughed. “I _know_ you don’t want to hear about this.”

She shut her eyes and bit her lips together, as though carefully picking her words. “No, but it’s… important to you. To who you are _now._ The war changed all of us and… maybe we need to talk about those changes rather than pretending nothing’s wrong.” _Gods know I’ve been doing enough of that recently._

He picked up the letter and put it in his bedside cabinet, almost slamming the door. “Fine. What do you want to know? It’s not illegal for him to write to me.”

“I wasn’t going to say that-”

“You didn’t _need_ to. Can’t I just have this?” he asked, looking almost pleading. _Without making you even sadder?_

“ _Of course you can!_ ” She almost snapped it rather than said it, then, more gently: “Of course you can. I’m not… I don’t want to take any more away from you.” _I’m not Kepler. I_ won’t _be like him._

“I don’t feel that way,” he said, although it wasn’t true. “I know _why_ you did it, but…”

“But you’re still angry that I did,” she finished for him. “You’re allowed to be angry with me about that. You… cared for him, and I banished him anyway.”

“Cared for him?” he echoed hollowly. “Yeah. You could say that. I always did fall for the troubled ones, didn’t I?”

She curled her knees up under her, as she had when they were children and she was unhappy. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know you-” Her voice cut off, as though she couldn’t quite bring herself to finish the sentence.

He’d never said it to anyone else. “I love him.”

She raised a hand to cover her mouth. “I know. I know, and I’m so, so sorry it ended the way it did. If there had been another way…” _He killed my father, Doug. He would have killed me. Tell me what I should have done._

“I’m not _blaming_ you,” he said shortly. “He’s a Goddard man, a sorcerer, hell, he probably _killed_ Uncle Tad and I want to hate him. I wanted to forget. And then he started to write and it’s like - oh, hey! Here I go again.” He groaned, head falling into his hands.

She slid out of the armchair and sat down beside him on the couch, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. He tried to shrug her off for a moment, but then leaned into her.

“I don’t know what it was like here after I left,” she said to him, softly. “I don’t know what you went through, what they did to you, but… whatever else he did, he got you through it. And that… that means something.”

“He did,” Eiffel said quietly. “And maybe I helped him get through something too.”

She leant her head against his arm. “I think you must have, given what he did for you.” _He betrayed Kepler. He spared me._ Who’d ever heard of mercy from a fae-blessed before? “You survived a lot together. You fell in love. That’s not a crime.”

“It feels like one,” he said. “But if he’d hurt you- I would _never_ -”

“I know,” she reassured him. Her voice was thick with tears but unwavering. “I know you wouldn’t have. I trust you. I’ve _always_ trusted you.” She sniffed, loudly. “I should never have left you at all.” _If I hadn’t left you, you would never have loved him. Never taken a monster to bed to prove to yourself you weren’t afraid._

“No, you did the right thing. You got married!” he teased, nudging her. “You couldn’t have missed that.”

“You should have been there,” she replied, nudging him back. “I missed you that day. I missed you every day.”

“I missed you too,” he sighed. “And I miss Hera. And I miss him.”

“I know a little of how that feels.” She missed the dragon too, with a quiet ache of guilt. “I remember… I lost someone too, if only for a little while. It hurt, and for a moment… for a little while, I thought I understood why you did what you did, after Anne. I wish you never had to feel that way again. Missing someone like that.” _I wish I hadn’t forced that feeling on you._ She squeezed him, protectively.

“You’ve lost a lot,” he said sadly. “Tad and Marie would love her, you know? Isabel.”

She gave a short laugh. “Wouldn’t they find it funny? After all those years mooning after her…” She scrubbed a hand across her eyes. “It isn’t _fair,_ though. That they never got to meet her. That you missed our wedding. That I have _her_ now and you…” She buried her face in her hands. “I was supposed to protect you! And you needed _him_ for that. And then I exiled him.”

“He could be pardoned,” he said, almost murmuring it. “One day.”

There was a short silence, then: “Maybe one day. When the war’s just another boring history and I’ve washed some of the blood off my hands.”

“I’m not asking for him to live in the _palace,_ Renée, but Gods… I’ve never been a patient man, all right? Letters aren’t enough.”

“I know.” She wiped her eyes, looking determined. “I know. I’ll… I’ll do what I can for him.” _Even if right now that’s simply pretending I don’t know he’s still in my kingdom._ “You know I want you to be happy, right?”

“Yeah, of course. Me too,” he added quickly. “I’m not - I’m not _jealous._ I _like_ Lovelace.”

She looked up at him, “You know you’re a terrible liar, right?”

“Fine,” Eiffel agreed affably, “I am unspeakably jealous. I am _incandescently_ jealous, what I meant to say is, I’m not _bitter._ I don’t resent you for being happy.”

She covered her mouth with her hands. “Stop it, you’re going to make me cry again. Who said you could grow up when I wasn’t looking?”

“Don’t be stupid,” he grinned, knocking her shoulder. “I’ll never grow up, you know me. Someone’s got to be the immature one, if only so you’ll remember to laugh once in awhile.”

She laughed then, even with tears still escaping from her eyes, and hugged him tight. “You always do. You’re still my little cousin, after all.”

So many things had changed, but this hadn’t left them.

*

Kepler looked almost… surprised to see the prince outside his cell. His departure tomorrow was all but certain, and he hadn’t expected to see him before it. But there he was, arms crossed, as though waiting for him to say something.

“They’re carting you off to the Empire tomorrow,” Eiffel said, finally.

“That they are,” Kepler agreed. “And why do I have the pleasure of a visit from you, Eiffel?”

“I’m enjoying my happy ending,” he said, “You know, the one where you’re locked away like a villain while I’m free as a bird? It’s pretty good, I thought you’d like to know.”

Kepler chuckled, letting no traces of bitterness show on his face. “Well played, prince.”

Eiffel stared at him, baffled incomprehension all over his face. “That’s… all you’re going to say?”

“Sure.” He relaxed back against the walls, chains rattling slightly. “You’re here to gloat? Go ahead, gloat. I’ve got time.”

“Do you ever get bored of pretending to be smug and complacent?”

“No. Next question?”

Eiffel continued staring. “Really? You murder my uncle, conquer my kingdom, dethrone my cousin, hold me hostage for _five months,_ and you don’t have anything to say now you’ve lost? No epic villain speech you’ve been saving for the end? You were _that sure_ you’d win?”

He shrugged. “It’s the job, Eiffel. _I_ haven’t lost. The man you see in front of you doesn’t even exist, not really. Goddard lost a battle. It won’t lose the war.”

“The war’s over, Kepler. You _lost._ Goddard are currently scraping to keep Lovelace and Minkowski on side. You think you’re going to be _anything_ when you go back there? The biggest claim to power you had was a sorcerer’s blood-oath, and where is he now?” _Far, far away from you._

His facade flickered, just for a second, like candlelight struck by a light breeze. “We’ll see,” was all he said, unwilling to reply further.

“‘We’ll see’?” Eiffel mimicked him, and laughed, “You think he’ll come back to you after everything you did? You’re as delusional as you’ve ever been.”

“I wasn’t referring to the _sorcerer_.”

“Then what _were_ you referring to? Your friends in high places back in the capital? Because they’re the ones who’ve been calling loudest for your execution. A public, messy execution at that. It seems a little uncivilised, but apparently they enjoy archaic kinds of fun back at Goddard.” He folded his arms, looking pleased.

“And here I thought you were a peaceful man,” Kepler replied smoothly, although anyone could see how tired his eyes were. “Didn’t you tell us that, in your quarters that day?” The ‘us’ stung a little, more so than he’d expected.

“I _was,_ once. But just because I can’t see the point in endless cycles of vengeance, it doesn’t follow that I’m opposed to _justice._ ” He grinned. “And believe me, the justice I hear is waiting for you couldn’t be sweeter.”

Kepler folded his arms, as best as he could in chains. “What do you really want to talk about, Eiffel?”

He stepped a little closer to the bars and leaned down. “You hurt me. You hurt the people I love. You hurt my kingdom. I just want to enjoy the moment of knowing you’ll never hurt _anyone_ I care about again.”

“Especially seeing as you don’t have many of those left?”

Eiffel’s eyes narrowed. “You’re right. I don’t have many of those left. But you know what? You came here with two minions, one of whom was your lover, and the weight of the Goddard Empire behind you. You’ll leave here with _nothing._ So I’ll treasure my loved ones, and you can be smug about how you’ve got nobody they can hurt you with, because you sure as shit don’t have anything else to be smug about.”

“How about the fact that you can’t have him either?” Kepler asked, abandoning pretence. “I could feel _very_ smug about that, if I put my mind to it.”

Eiffel actually laughed. “Oh, sure, I don’t have him _here._ ” He gestured to his surroundings. “But I still _have_ him. And one day, I’ll have him back. But whether he comes back for me or not, he’s never flying back to _your_ hand again, and _that_ makes me happier for him than words can describe.”

“You think five months can touch _six years?_ He’ll remember how useless he is when he’s alone,” Kepler replied.

“Not without you to remind him every step of the way that he can’t change who he is. You know, you could have done so much more with a little _faith._ ” He spat the last word like a taunt. “But you never believed in anything but _power_ , and this is where that brought you.”

Kepler chuckled at him. “You think you can tame a sorcerer with _faith?_ He needs a firm hand. _Discipline._ Or he’ll burn you both up.” He found himself relishing the prospect.

Eiffel shook his head. “You still don’t understand. I never tamed him. I never _wanted_ to. I just gave him the opportunity to be a better person, and he took it. Something you could have given him _years_ ago, if you’d understood anything about faith or people.”

“You’re naive.”

“You’re cynical. But think about which of us is sitting in the cell before you judge my approach. He was never your weapon, or your _pet._ He just needed someone to remind him what he really was.” Eiffel’s expression in the torchlight was _glowing_ with belief. Kepler wanted to shake it out of him.

“I know what he really was. A fae-blessed forest fire. If you don’t keep that in check, you’ll ruin him as well as yourself. I kept him steady for _six years,_ do you think that’s easy? You don’t know him at all, little prince, with a heart full of faith and a mouth full of empty promises,” he sneered. “You don’t know _power_ like we had.”

Eiffel gave him a slow clap. “And we’re back to _power_ again. Do you even listen to yourself? Sure, he had magic. Sure, you had power and control while it lasted. And where exactly did that get you when I _offered_ him a heart full of faith? Because he took my faith like it was bread and he was starving. If you’d _really_ known him that well, it should never have been so easy.”

“Easy,” Kepler scoffed. “I’m sure it must have seemed so, at first. Before the fire. I’m curious, did he tell you he was under orders to seduce you?” He asked it almost casually, like the words weren’t cold and cutting.

Eiffel raised an eyebrow. “Good to know you have so much faith in my intelligence, Kepler. I knew what he was doing the moment he arrived in my chambers. Hell, he probably knew that I was pretending as much as he was at first. And yet. He still fell for it. What does that tell you about your _power?_ ”

“That I got a sorcerer,” Kepler said, sounding almost pitying, “and all you got was the whore.”

“ _Don’t._ Call. Him. That.” His voice was slow, sharp, and deadly. “You ordered him to seduce me. You don’t get to pretend that makes your relationship with him _anything_ like mine.”

“Daniel fell into _my_ bed easily enough after a few kind words. It’s not difficult to bed him.”

“Don’t talk about him like he’s less than _human_ to you! He _adored_ you, and you cast that away like it was _nothing!_ Like he was nothing!” Eiffel’s eyes glowed with rage.

“There are plenty of other bedwarmers, Eiffel. Other _whores_. Ultimately the magic was more important. Why else would I have him with me if not to use it when I needed it?”

“Because he’s intelligent? Because he’s a very competent knight? Because he’s _interesting?_ Because he loved you? Are you even capable of seeing _anything_ in people when all you look for is power and who lacks it?” _It would explain how you underestimated me so dramatically._

“Because he loved me? You think that’s a good enough reason? You are _so_ sentimental.”

Eiffel only blinked at him, uncomprehending. “What is _wrong_ with you? He might be fae-blessed, but you… I’ve met _dragons_ with more humanity than you.”

“I’m sorry, did you want me to fight you for him? Have some romantic love triangle, like something from your books? Is this not reaching your lofty, chivalric expectations, prince?”

Eiffel shook his head. “I wanted to see if there was _something_ in you that made you worth his loyalty. But all I’ve found is the shell of a man who sold his soul to the Empire long ago, and hasn’t even realised. You burned your own little kingdom down and you didn’t even notice.”

“You’ll never understand his loyalty to me. I hope that eats away at you forever. Now you can leave.” He spoke dismissively, as though he could banish Eiffel within his own palace.

But Eiffel would have the last word: “Oh no, I understood his _loyalty_ to you long ago. But you’ll never understand his heart. You’ll never understand _anyone’s_ heart. I don’t believe you have one of your own at all.”

He walked away from the man who’d destroyed his kingdom, as though he’d left a great weight at the door to the cells. He might have had a heart full of faith and a mouth full of empty promises, but he still _had_ a heart to speak of.

*

The carriage that rolled into the courtyard was small, dust-stained, and unremarkable. Nobody looking at it would have assumed that it carried the most precious cargo in the kingdom, at least until a dark-haired little girl tumbled out of it and flung herself into Eiffel’s waiting arms. He staggered a little - she’d grown so much since he last saw her - but spun her around and stepped back, allowing Kate to step out of the carriage more sedately, holding the slate Anne had discarded in the carriage.

“Daddy,” she said into his shoulder, voice a little disjointed and mumbled but no less perfect for that.

“Annie,” he sighed into her hair, and she giggled at the tickle of his breath.

“Good to have you both back at last.” Renée helped Kate down with a smile. “I hope the journey wasn’t too hard on you?”

“I thought we’d never get here,” Kate laughed. “She wouldn’t sleep, marked off the days in her bedroom. It’s good to see you too.”

“We missed you. The palace was much too quiet without you both.” She glanced over at Eiffel and Anne, still embracing, though Anne soon wriggled to be set back on her feet, and turned to Minkowski. She leaned forward a little awkwardly, anticipating a hug, but instead, the girl bobbed a graceful curtsey.

“Hello, your majesty,” she recited, formally, then gave a mischievous grin and launched herself at her aunt.

Eiffel blinked between them, a look of dazed happiness in his eyes. “She’s so - _happy._ Just like she’s always been.” His expression cleared, and he turned to Kate with worry: “I’m sorry-”

She punched him on the arm, lightly, before he could continue. “Shut up. She’s happy to see you. And so am I,” she added, with a little more reluctance, though she smiled fondly at him.

He sighed. “I don’t really deserve it, but I’m happy to have you both back too.” It was strange, until the moment they’d actually stepped out of the carriage, he hadn’t thought he’d ever see them again.

“Idiot,” she said, hugging him tight. As she drew back, she lay a hand on his cheek, taking in his tired eyes and the slight dip at the corner of his mouth. “Oh, sweetheart, who broke your heart this time?”

“Can’t I blame your luminous beauty for that?” he teased, but it sounded a little hollow. More seriously, he added: “We’re all back together at last, Kate. I couldn’t be happier.”

“You’re telling me all about it later,” she warned, before catching Anne as she ran back to them and stumbled. “Careful, darling.”

Anne rolled her eyes and pulled the slate eagerly from her hand, shoving it at Eiffel, who began scribbling his half of the greetings for her. She was a good lip-reader, and she and Kate had invented signs for most every-day things, but when she was tired, reading was easier.

“She’s grown so much,” Renée said quietly to Kate, “I almost wouldn’t have known her. She’s not going to inherit my height, I can see it already. Thank you for coming back, and bringing her with you.” She nodded at Eiffel, “It’s the happiest he’s been since…”

“Oh, I hate being right all the time. You’ll tell me all about it once she’s in bed, won’t you? Though I can’t imagine her settling down peacefully tonight…”

“I’ll tell you everything, of course. Her rooms are the way she left them, though I got her a few more books now she’s a better reader.” She smiled, suddenly, “Some of them might even have stories about her new aunt in them.”

Kate laughed merrily. “Oh, of _course,_ I almost forgot. I can’t wait to meet her.”

“You’ll _love_ her,” Renée promised, ushering her family into the palace.

Anne was predictably difficult to settle after the excitement of the journey, but once she was tucked into bed (by both her parents _and_ her aunt), she was fast asleep in moments, exhausted from the travelling.

On the other side of her bedroom door, her parents sat with cups of steaming tea in the sitting room of Kate and Anne’s quarters, heads bent together in quiet conversation.

“So you didn’t see anything odd during the war? Goddard didn’t send anyone after you?” Eiffel asked, for what felt like the hundredth time.

“ _No,_ Doug,” Kate sighed, “we were perfectly safe. Didn’t notice a thing,” she assured him. “If we had, do you think I’d have brought her here?”

He sighed. “I suppose not. I was just so _worried_ about her. About both of you. It was a long few months, and I had no way to get word to you or even check you were both alright...” He shuddered, remembering the endless nights of worry after Kepler had found out about them.

Kate sipped her tea. “I was worried about you too. But we didn’t know half of what was going on down here.” She put her mug down. “Now you tell me what else I’ve missed. Girl or boy?”

Eiffel wrinkled his nose, “How do you _know_ these things? Has Minkowski been running her mouth?”

“She’s the very picture of discretion,” Kate laughed. “But you’re as easy to read as one of your books.”

He snorted, “Thanks, Kate. You say the nicest things. It was a boy, by the way.” He sipped his tea, gazing distantly into the fire.

“Thought so,” she said, nodding. “Where is he now?”

He waved his hand to the window. “Gone. Banished technically, though I don’t think he’s paid much attention to that part.”

She coughed slightly on a mouthful of tea. “ _Banished?”_

Eiffel gave a short laugh, “Yeah, I _really_ know how to pick them.”

“I’ll say.” She patted him fondly. “I forgot how _hard_ you fall. There’s no chance of a reunion?”

“I can hope, but…” He shook his head. “He and Renée didn’t exactly part on the best terms. Hence the banishment.” _That, and he probably murdered my uncle and would_ definitely _murder Minkowski, given the opportunity._ He’d always had such _excellent_ taste in men.

“Sure she’s not too distracted by her new wife to notice?”

He shrugged, “They’re an… interesting pair.” _If by ‘interesting’ you mean the type of love that should only exist in storybooks, if only because it makes them_ terrible _at talking to one another._

“They certainly are. Shame you had to miss the wedding,” she sighed. “Anne would have loved to be a flower-girl.”

“She would have been precious,” Eiffel agreed, then narrowed his eyes. “Although… We do all need something to celebrate as a family. Something that can be a new beginning. Cast away the ghosts, or at least settle them for a little while…”

“You have something in mind?”

“Well, we missed their wedding, and you couldn’t have made it for the coronation, but there’s no reason we can’t get the two of them married again.” He grinned, and leaned forward a little. “We just need to get the two of them to agree to _another_ celebration, if only a family one.”

Kate matched his grin. “Who says they need to agree? We were always good at planning surprises. … Or _not_ planning them, once or twice.”

He gave her a quick hug, “Oh, Kate. I’ve _missed_ you.”

*

“Come _on_ , Aunt Renée!” Anne said, insistently dragging at her hand. “We’ll miss the fireflies.”

Minkowski wondered how Anne was so certain they’d miss the fireflies when it was barely dusk, but followed her through the gardens to the Camlann memorial grove anyway. Neither of them were really dressed for the dirt, but there was no harm in indulging her only niece, even if she was currently attempting to pull her arm off.

Then they stepped into the grove, and she almost stumbled. Instead of fireflies, there were candles hung from every branch, and flowers of every colour scattered underfoot, glowing with the unreal colours of a dream. And in the middle of the grove stood Eiffel and Kate, looking wickedly pleased with themselves.

“Right on time,” Eiffel grinned, and signed _great work, sweetheart_ to Anne.

Minkowski had a  sneaking suspicion that she’d been tricked by the three of them: “What on earth…”

“...is going on?” Isabel finished for her, picking her way out of the treeline on the opposite side, looking equally confused, dressed in her best white linen shirt and gold-embellished hose.

Eiffel clapped his hands. “Great, now we’re all together: no, Minkowski didn’t write you that note, I’ve been forging her handwriting since we could write, yes, we tricked you, and no, we’re not sorry, because you’re both going to _love_ this.” He gestured around the grove, while the two queens blinked bemusedly first at him, and then at each other.

Isabel started as she noticed the circlets of woven flowers on top of the graves of her friends, and then saw similar circlets in Anne’s hand. “What’s all this?” she asked gently, kneeling down to address her and making the same questioning sign she had seen Eiffel use.

Anne stood on tiptoe and gravely placed the crown on top of her dark hair. “What does it look like?” she replied, pulling Minkowski forward to kneel as well. “Your turn,” she told her aunt, setting another crown on her head before tugging her own on. “Now we’re _properly_ ready.”

“For..?”

She held up her fingers, and began counting off a list. “Family. Friends. Flowers. People in love. Everything we need for a wedding.”

“A _wedding?_ ” Minkowski blushed, and signed and spoke at the same time: “Darling, we _had_ one of those.”

“Not one like this,” Isabel said, smiling as she began to catch on. She adjusted herself so she was down on one knee, rather than crouching. “Stand up, dearest?”

Renée got to her feet, dusting off her skirts. “ _Really?_ ” But her smile was irrepressible. Kate quietly stepped forward and drew Anne back to stand with her and Eiffel. She didn’t resist, her eyes as wide as saucers at the scene unfolding in front of them.

“Renée Minkowski,” Isabel said, smiling brightly. “Would you do me the honour of becoming my wife - again?”

“In a heartbeat.” Renée took her hand and pulled her to her feet to kiss her. The kiss continued until Kate and Eiffel began a slow clap almost simultaneously.

“Wrong order,” he called out to them. “First you get married, _then_ you kiss the bride. Honestly, you’d think they hadn’t done this before,” he joked, signing it for Anne and making her laugh.

“Right, right,” Isabel said, rolling her eyes good-naturedly and stepping back. “Where do you want us?”

“Right here,” He gestured to the middle of the clearing, “Where everyone can see.”

“Everyone…” she stopped and blinked, suddenly realising why flowers adorned every grave. “Oh. Oh, I…”

“Everyone who matters to both of you,” Kate said, taking their hands gently and drawing them into the centre. “None of us wanted to miss the first time round, so it’s only fair we should all be here now.” She nudged Eiffel. “ _All_ of us.”

He blinked, then rifled through his pockets. “Renée, this is for you. It was going to be your birthday present but today seems more appropriate.” He held out a small, plain locket on a golden chain. She took it with a frown - she seldom wore jewellery - but had to cover her mouth with one hand when she opened it.

“Mother and Father?” She looked up from the perfect miniatures of her parents with tears in her eyes.

“They’d want to be here too,” he replied, taking the locket from her and deftly clipping it around her neck. “We’re _all_ here for a new beginning, as a family.” He stepped back in between them. “Ready to begin?”

They nodded, and he drew their hands together. Kate handed him a length of gold ribbon, which he began to wrap around their joined hands.

“Before the gods, do you swear to trust each other?” he asked, beginning the ceremony with the words they’d heard so many months ago.

“We swear,” they intoned.

“Before your friends and family, do you swear to protect and care for each other?”

“We swear,” they repeated, unable to look away from the ribbon binding them together.

“Before your beloved, do you swear to love each other, in light and darkness, in summer and winter, in fire and flood?”

“We swear,” they chanted,  and he tied off the ribbon in a final knot.

“Then you have declared your marriage before the world, and none may stand against it,” he finished.

“ _Now_ you can kiss,” Anne added, her hand already reaching for her basket of flower petals.

Isabel grinned, dipping her head gracefully at Anne for her permission, and dipped her wife into a breathtaking kiss.

Anne gleefully pelted her aunts with the flower petals, but didn’t successfully interrupt the kissing now it had truly begun. Her mother, meanwhile, gently elbowed her father in the ribs and handed him a handkerchief.

“I’m not crying,” he insisted, blowing his nose into it. “I just have something in my eye.”

“Sure you do,” she laughed, pulling him in for a one-armed hug as the two queens stood opposite each other, foreheads pressed together, eyes closed and smiling.

“Well, this was… unexpected,” Renée murmured. “Who’d have predicted I’d get to marry Isabel Lovelace _twice?_ ”

“I’d marry you as many times as I could,” Isabel promised. “Every day if you want me to.”

She laughed, softly, “Anything to make me put on a dress?” She drew back a little, but still held her hand within the ribbons tight. “Let’s get back to our palace and have a wedding night with less awkward conversation, and more fun.”

*

“You did well,” Kate said, yawning a little behind her hand as she and Eiffel walked through the main corridors to their respective quarters, Anne asleep on his back. “They loved it.”

“Of course they did, _we_ planned it,” he grinned, “You know, we could set up a business planning surprise weddings, we’re great at it. Especially this one.” He tilted his head to Anne, who gave a quiet snore in response. “It was great. A new start for everyone.”

“What about you?” she asked softly. “It doesn’t seem fair that you don’t get your own happily-ever-after.”

“I have you two, and Minkowski. I have my _family._ What could make me happier?” He placed a kiss in Anne’s silky dark hair. “Before the war, I didn’t think I’d have _this,_ there’s no point in pining for anything else.”

Anne began to stir, and they walked in silence for a little so Eiffel could concentrate on lulling her back to sleep. When they’d finally tucked her into bed, Kate walked him back to his rooms. It was a small thing, but it helped a little to alleviate the feeling he shouldn’t be out in the palace.

“You’ve got a letter,” she commented, nodding towards a small fold of rough parchment that had been placed on the table.

Eiffel crossed the room with too-eager strides and opened it hurriedly. Then he collapsed onto the couch as though he’d forgotten how to stand. For a moment she thought his lungs were seizing up again, but when she sat down next to him she could hear his breaths were rapid but even.

“What is it?” she asked, concerned.

He blushed. “Nothing important.” His attempt at lightness was entirely unconvincing. “It’s… from him.”

She grinned. “Good timing. What does he say?”

“Nothing _important,_ ” he repeated. Then: “He found the person he was looking for. He… he wants to come back. Well, not back _here_ back, but-”

“I see,” she said, craning her neck to read over his shoulder. _Still got that castle in the mountains?_ “Well? What are you waiting for?”

He elbowed her, “ _Rude,_ Kate. I can’t exactly run away just because he asked. There’s you and Anne to consider now. And Minkowski-”

“We will be here when you get back,” she promised. “I know the castle you mean, it’s not far. Easy enough to slip away to for a few days.” She elbowed him back, fondly. “I think you’ve tortured yourself enough. Go get your happily-ever-after.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you all enjoyed reading this! There may be more codas in the works later, but we have to decide if we really want to upload our self-indulgent fluff-angst, so let us know if that's something you'd want to see, either in the comments here or at lottiesnotebook and captainlovelxce on Tumblr! We love hearing from you almost as much as we love writing this.


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